Organised Chaos - Sherlock x Reader

LIV • 54

John's POV:

I had mixed emotions. I was glad he was back, but I was worried about his behaviour. I knew he was exhausted and depressed, but there had been something else- something physical. When he'd left, I knew he wanted space, but I couldn't help but feel betrayed. He'd been with me for ten minutes for the first time in over a year and he already needed space? Granted, the circumstances weren't ideal. Perhaps it was just the exhaustion, the apparent pain, the depression, and this entire situation getting to him. I could hardly blame him. He'd looked awful.
I pondered this as I came home that evening.
I climbed the stairs to my- our flat, it was ours again, wearily. Sherlock was in bed, where I had hoped, but not expected him to be. His violin was out on the table, clean now. I smiled softly. It was good to have him back.
I collapsed into my chair, and fell asleep almost immediately.

******

I woke to Mrs. Hudson's chatter in the hallway, then she poked her head in
"It's his brother." She said, then popped back out, allowing for Mycroft to enter.
He swung his ever present umbrella. "Hello John."
I ran my hands over my face, still not fully awake.
"What do you need?" I asked, irritation already in my voice.
"I need," He enunciated this carefully, "to talk to Sherlock."
I flung my hand in the general direction of his room. "Then go talk to him."
He smiled thinly. "If I go in there, he will most likely throw something large and heavy at me."
"Oh, well, thanks for giving me the job." I muttered sarcastically, but got up and shuffled toward his door.
I knocked lightly, heard nothing. I knocked again, a little louder, and heard a grunt.
"What?" He queried groggily, his voice muffled.
I opened the door so we could hear each other better.
What I saw horrified me.
He lay on the bed face down, with his head buried in a pillow. He wore no shirt and now I saw what had made him wince yesterday.
The lacerations that covered his back were consistent with torture by beatings.
"Oh my God." I said, slowly.
He shot up, suddenly awake. I saw pain on his face, then guilt.
"You weren't... you weren't supposed to see those." He said, his hand automatically going to his side, where several of the lashes continued along his ribs, which protruded far more than they had before. I had never seen him so malnourished.
"Why-" I closed my eyes, trying to stay calm. "Why would you keep that from me?"
"I didn't want you worrying about me when you had enough to worry about (F/N). I still don't want you to worry about me."
"Oh I'm not just worried!" I spoke louder this time, suddenly angry.
He cowered a little, then got up and picked his shirt up from the ground.
"No." I said, walking across the room. "I am your doctor and I'm going to be your doctor."
He visibly groaned. "Why John? You've seen them, why do you need to look some more?"
"I don't need to just look, Sherlock. I need to examine your wounds and determine the action that needs to be taken in order to treat them."
"I'm fine." He countered.
I snorted. "I believe that even less than I did yesterday."

Sherlock's POV:

I sagged. I knew it was worthless arguing with him, especially when he was in 'doctor mode'. I sat on the edge of the bed, my back to him, leaned forward.
"What was it?" He asked.
"Bull whip." I responded, quietly.
"Who?"
"German Intelligence."
"And why?"
"I wouldn't tell them why I was at their headquarters."
"And why were you?"
"Moriarty had built his web directly over the BND and I needed to untangle it."
"You just love putting your life in danger don't you?" He growled.
"I was trying to keep you safe!" I countered.
"Well you did a real fine job of that." He snarled.
That hurt.
I winced as he redressed the still open wounds. He was angry and he wasn't being as gentle as he could have been, although it had been his words that had hurt the worst.
He finished up and headed for the door without saying anything else. As he opened it, he turned. "Your brother is waiting to talk to you."
I groaned again. That was the exact opposite of what I needed right now.
I forced myself up, wincing with the effort. I'd just get this over with.